Her
by Green1
Summary: a semi-drabble on Al's thoughts of his new familiar after Rachel threw him back to the Ever-after.


Her by Green

disclaimer: I don't know the characters or story. You read at your own risk. Only kinda-sorta a Ral fic. ;P

Damn her!

Algalierept couldn't get the mental image of her staring at him out of his head. He hadn't seen a proud look of defiance in her green eyes nor the triumph of victory over him. Instead, she'd looked at him steadily, taking in the fact that she'd out smarted him and that knowledge had shaken her.

He picked up a small glass of ouzo and downed it in a swallow. The alcohol hit him hard, blurring his vision for a moment. It had been a while since he'd allowed himself to get drunk. He was either one of two things when he got drunk: angry or horny. Ceri had cowered at afraid of both and he'd cut back to keep her from flinching away from him. He'd gotten over liking Ceri cowering from him after only eighty years. It was much nicer when she, while maybe not wanted him, accepted his touch.

Oh Ceri, he thought, rubbing his forehead. He poured another glass, watching the clear alcohol slosh over the rim. A thousand years, most of that without her showing him a sign of true defiance, and this is what she did to him. He'd been a glorious master!

Hell, he'd even let her keep that tiny streak of defiance. Seeing it flair in those eyes when she'd wanted to keep him from sharing anything with him was exquisite. Strong women turned him on like nothing else, save maybe strong women who bowed only to him.

He hadn't even planned on killing her. After they'd worked to bring Rachel up to speed, he would've put her out to pasture. She hadn't had much more time, anyhow. A thousand years was far too old for an elf soul. Already her soul couldn't take any more black without collapsing in on itself, the simple animals that they were. He'd kept her until she was past her prime and this was how she repaid him.

If she'd only known how much the hunting societies had wanted to pay him for her. Ah, to hunt down a real Elvin princess, and a beauty at that.

He swallowed the second glass and thumbed the lid on the alcohol. It wouldn't do to get fall down drunk already.

They were laughing at him. His "friends". He'd never known of a familiar who could resist the whim of his master without a large effort on his part, soul or not. The spell of bonding usually took the familiar out for a day, sometimes two, depending.

Even Minias, damn him. Minias, whom he'd helped sentence to a (short) life with Newt. He hadn't said anything to him, only cocked a brow when he told the group at the Coffee Vault that she'd demanded he say her full name.

More than a couple offered for her just on the shared memory alone but he couldn't imagine letting another demon pluck the fruits he hadn't tasted himself.

He'd been bemused when she'd looked at him through the snarls of her hair, green eyes blazing. She'd been able to think on her own within minutes of taking his aura. "My name is Rachel Marianne Morgan." He shivered, letting her words spill over her now that he was alone.

'She'll be a glorious familiar,' he thought, nursing the empty glass. Incredibly strong despite the fact that she is as ignorant as a toad.

For just a sliver of time, her green eyes blazed in triumph. He imagined what color they would turn when she was under him, her eyes dark with want of him.

He loved women with green eyes. He supposed it had to do with his peoples. Part of his initial attraction to Ceri was her green eyes. They'd shown in defiance too, though it had been the fake kind of defiance, brought about by a rich family and the ability to call down lots of strong men at a whim.

When Rachel's eyes blazed, he wasn't certain why but it was different. The defiance of a child? Or maybe some addle-minded adult? All he'd know was that he'd wanted her. He'd thought it was innocence. How had she survived almost twenty five years and have no working knowledge of demons or leyline? Most everyone knew about demons. They told their children about them and were considered the all around oogie boogie men.

He had thought he'd lucked out. This beautiful woman, extremely powerful and talented, had all but fallen into his lap. She knew nothing about demons and he'd managed to mark her. He'd almost felt sorry for her. Almost. She'd been too much of a godsend, though. He wasn't entirely cruel, it was just more efficient.

The library was much too quiet. A large fire crackled too cheerfully to suit him and the smell of burnt clothes still clung in the air. He'd destroyed Ceri's room, starting with those damn slippers. Now he felt a slight pit in his stomach. Ceri had been a princess, once married to a crown Prince before he and most of her family - her child included - died of a plague, and she'd spent the last thousand years with him.

She was strong. He'd grant her that. But ... she'd been with him for the last thousand years. He didn't think she could survive in reality without him. He didn't think Rachel would abandon her but it was a huge adjustment. The memory of her huddled in the animal skin cloak came back to him.

Starved, yet there had been that regal air to her. He tried to picture Rachel like that and only managed to see what she might look naked with only the cloak on. He groaned and rubbed his face.

He pushed the mental image away and poured himself a third glass of ouzo. He would get Rachel. He would beat her senseless for the humiliation. To this, he vowed. If it was the last damn thing he did, she would be his, bowed and broken, at his feet where she belonged.

The End

Just a short drabble I wrote a while ago. 


End file.
